Page 45 of Crash Course

A sigh slips out of me, because I want that too.

Suddenly his breathing is harder, rougher. The playfulness is gone, replaced with intensity.

My nails dig into his shoulders, my hand fisting in his hair as he sucks.

Then he moves lower.

Yes. My teeth sink into my lip. He knows exactly how to touch me. And when he’s out of control, well, that turns me on even more.

He shifts between my thighs, and every part of me is straining for contact. Except when I look down, Theo’s hair isn’t dirty blond but dark. When his head tilts up to meet my gaze, those slate-blue eyes burn into my soul.

“Admit it, Townie.” Jameson’s low voice drags along my skin, his expression hot and knowing with a little smirk. “We both know I’d get you off better.”

When the blare of my alarm interrupts the silence, I’m still staring at the ceiling like I can burn through it with my eyes.

14

Shay

“There is no racing without friction,” Professor Vogel says. “It’s friction between the car and the track that allows us to create speed.”

Next to me in our strategy class, Megan’s watching a K-pop video on mute under her textbook. Zane is taking careful notes, and Raj studies a bird out the window.

I sneak a look at Jameson on the drivers’ side of the classroom. He’s bored and at ease, his strong legs stretched out in front of him and his shirt rolled up at the elbows. His dark hair in waves that look as if he’s been running his hands through it.

Probably after he carved ASHFORD in my shifter.

Vandalism shouldn’t be attractive, but on Jameson Ashford…

It’s inexplicably hot.

I force my attention back to Vogel.

Theo’s absent today. He texted to say he was stuck doing media and asked if I’d take notes because Jamie had terrible penmanship.

If he were here, maybe I’d be sneaking looks at him. But no. I’m stuck with Mr. Congeniality.

My gaze shifts sideways to find Jameson already staring at me.

His moody blue gaze is charged. Like I’m a car he could take apart with his capable hands and there’s nothing he’d rather do.

Awareness rocks me in my chair. Heat dances along my nerve endings, making my thighs press together.

Does he know he crashed my Theo fantasy?

I would die a thousand agonizing deaths before—

“Miss MacDonald?” The professor’s sharp voice cracks my haze. “How does downforce affect cornering speed, and why does it come at a cost?”

My attention jerks toward the front of the room, where she’s waiting.

I know this one. I was reading about it yesterday. But now my memory falters. “I’ll get back to you.”

Vogel frowns. I slump lower in my seat.

Megan, looking between us, clears her throat. “It’s the friction coefficient between the tire compound and the surface. That’s what lets us generate lateral and longitudinal force.”

“Very good,” Vogel says flatly. “But not Miss MacDonald.”